


Pungeons & Hardons

by dream56



Category: Dungeons and Dragons (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Comedy, Cum drinking, Dick Growth, Hyper Cock and Balls, Inanimate Object Porn, M/M, Nudity, Sex Magic, Very much comedy, excessive cum, how else do I describe an orgy of brooms, maniacal trousers, product placement, puns, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dream56/pseuds/dream56
Summary: Being the not so child friendly adventures of a group trying to find their way home out of the world of Dungeons & Dragons...all while Eric and Presto continue to fail at sex.
Relationships: Eric "the Cavalier" & Presto "the Magician"
Kudos: 8





	1. In Which The Party is Sent to Consult a Desert Mystic

The sun hung at the top of the sky, beating down on the desert waste below. Dry scrappy trees curled up toward rare, dry clouds. Lizards slithered around the rims of rocks, deep within clustered boulders, seeking to escape the heat. As the adventuring group trudged on, their tracks in the red-orange sandy dirt disturbed puffs of particles, each whiff of dust settling only long after its makers had passed.

“Dungeon Master said we needed to head east to find the next clue to getting home,” Hank said, restating their mission to the rest of the group.

“Hasn’t that guy ever heard of public transportation? Magic transportation, even. I’m not picky,” Eric grumbled.

“For someone not picky, you strum your pity guitar an awful lot,” Diana said.

“Ey, what’s that supposed to mean? You tell me then if you’re so happy to be sent into the middle of nowhere to find some shlub who’s supposed to get us back. Why’s a guy live out in a desert anyway? Doesn’t make sense,” Eric said. “Only sand I wanna see is on a beach, Coney Island, _hot dogs…_ Stupid desert.”

“Dessert?” Bobby asked. “I’d like to jump right into a caramel sundae as big as an elephant. Isn’t that right, Uni?”

Uni gave an affirmative whine.

“Maybe I can whip us up something!” Presto said, reaching for his hat.

“ _Don’t even try it,_ ” Eric cut him off. “Last time you tried that, a lady in leather hopped out of your hat and made us get on our knees and bark like dogs.”

“At least she gave us directions after she was done,” Sheila said. “Donna Natrix wasn’t quite as bad as when you tried to bring us water and that storm cloud chased us for miles, Presto.”

“Hey, hey, I admit I goofed, you guys,” Presto defended his magic cap and his pride. “But I’ll be really careful with my wording this time.”

The group had stopped and Hank cricked his back. “Well,” he said, “couldn’t hurt. We don’t appear to be getting anywhere fast.”

Presto circled a hand around the brim of his upturned hat, sparks already giving off from his fingers. He chanted, “ _Perilous deserts will give us no fear. Show us the way to the Oasis Seer!”_

There was a huge crack and then nothing. Everyone looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed.

“Way to go,” Eric said. “Knew we could count on you.”

“On the bright side,” Diana said, “nothing happening is better than something bad happening.”

“I think you spoke too soon, Diana,” Sheila said, pointing.

Several hundred feet away, several large hills of boulders had begun to shake. In a matter of moments, these stones levitated, whirling wildly, and stacked themselves up in the shape of a person, several _very large_ persons. These rock persons seemed to have spotted the group and were loudly, angrily, and quickly headed their way.

“ _Golems!_ ” Hank cried. “The sound must have woken them up! Run!”

Uni squealed and took off leading the rest of the party who jostled and flummoxed and flew across the desert, staying only just ahead of the rock monsters.

“See…what…you…did…Mr. Magic?!” Eric panted at Presto as they ran.

“I didn’t…do it…on _purpose!_ ” Presto shouted back, the roars of the golems gaining on them.

“Quick! In that cave!” Diana said.

The others made for the entrance of a mound of round rocks only about ten feet high. As they all corralled themselves through the hole, they found the entrance led downwards and they scurried into the earth just as the golems tromped past, furiously shaking the ground. The party huddled in silence until long after the giant footsteps had died away.

Bobby whistled. “ _That_ was _close_.”

“It doesn’t make sense though,” Diana reasoned. “Aren’t golems artificial? Their creator must be around somewhere if they’re out there making a ruckus.”

“I think we might have found your answer, Diana,” Sheila said, motioning with her head.

A little further downhill, two magical torches burned, affixed to either side of a simple wooden door. On the simple wooden door was affixed a simple wooden sign which read, “ _Oasis Seer.”_

“See!” Presto puffed out his chest triumphantly, the effect causing his hat to slump over one eye. “My incantation _did_ lead us in the right direction!”

“And almost _flattened_ us,” Eric said. “I thought I was gonna be a pancake.”

“You’d fit behind your shield a lot easier that way,” Sheila quipped.

Eric huffed. The group approached the door and Hank knocked. A strange voice, wavery and exhausted, called forth.

“ _En…ter…”_

Hank opened the door. The room they found themselves in was perfectly circular, with a table perfectly curved to fit the round walls of the room save for a gap at the door. This table was loaded down with crystals of all sizes and colors, some fist-sized red groupings, pebble sized moonstones, a conglomerate of quartz too large for any of them to lift, and numerous matrices of muddy brown crystals. The ever-burning torches lining the wall seemed to refract through the innumerable facets on the table and light the room with sparkling panes of muted light. In the center of the room was another round table, this one an actual complete circle, covered with a delicate violet tablecloth. On it sat a crystal ball and two pots of incense filling the room with a thick, invasive odor. Uni coughed.

“ _Hell…o…child…ren. I…have expected…you,”_ a man said.

This man sat behind the table. He was a plain man, clean-shaven, around forty. He had long elegant hands and rubbed his crystal ball as if he were cleaning it. His eyes looked exceptionally tired and indeed, he wasn’t looking at the party at all, but deep into the crystal ball.

“Are you the Oasis Seer?” Diana asked.

“ _Yes…_ ” the seer responded. “ _I…am the…mystic of…many ways…the prophet of…places unforeseen…the diviner of…destined locales…the…”_ He stopped.

“The Oasis Seer?” Hank ventured.

“ _The Oasis Seer_ ,” the seer confirmed.

“Cool, cool, tough guy, so you’re gonna help us get home, right?” Eric said.

“ _I’m…afraid I cannot…”_ The seer responded sadly.

The group gasped.

“But! Dungeon Master _told_ us you’d help us,” Sheila stammered.

“I _knew_ that Dungeon Master was putting us on a goose chase,” Eric said, crossing his arms. “We were better off looking on our own.”

“Why can’t you help us, mister?” Bobby asked. “Are you sick or something?”

“ _Close…sir, you…are close. I…cannot help you…in my current…condition,_ ” the seer said helplessly.

“What seems to be the problem?” Presto asked.

The seer closed his eyes for a minute, almost nodding off. A loud shlucking noise followed which startled him and everyone else in the room. He sat upright again, wearier than ever.

“ _It’s…it’s…”_ he tried.

“A monster? A villain? A bad hangover?” Presto asked.

“ _My pants!”_ the seer said, finally.

“Your pants?” the group echoed. As they drew nearer, they noticed the seer’s pants. Hidden behind the tablecloth, the garment was a shocking green and orange plaid, skin tight, and clearly difficult to move around in. They also appeared to be gently vibrating.

“What’s wrong with your pants?” Bobby asked.

“ _They’re…they’re!”_ The seer said in horror.

“Itchy?” Sheila asked.

“Ill-fitting?” Diana queried.

“Hideously out of fashion?” Eric ventured.

“ _No! A curse!”_ He dropped his head into his hands and struggled to find his voice again. Finally, he looked up at their puzzled but sympathetic faces, with the exception of Eric who, as usual, looked miffed.

“ _I feel I have…no option but…to relay the crude truth…to you all. These…handsome slacks…were a gift…they were at my…front door last week…”_

“That’s a nice surprise,” Sheila said.

“ _That is…also what I…thought. And so…I tried them on…foolishly. Instantly, Venger appeared!”_

The others gasped again. “ _Venger_ is behind this?”

“Of course he is,” Eric snarled. “That big horse-riding doofus messes everything up.”

“ _Yes,”_ the seer said sadly, “ _Venger appeared…he told me I…had been tricked…that a group…of brave and…powerful adventurers…would be on…their way to con…consult me but…that I would…be in no shape…to offer…any…any assis…assis…help.”_

“What does that have to do with the pants?” Hank asked.

“ _I apologize…for my…crass language…”_ the seer said. Sheila instantly clamped her hands over Bobby’s ears. Bobby in turn clamped his hands over Uni’s.

“ _These…are seersucker pants…constantly…from the moment…of activation…they tease and suckle…and stroke and pleasure…a seer’s genitals…making it…impossible for them…to sleep or…rest.”_

“What, so your pants are sucking you off right _now_?” Eric asked, his interest perking up.

“ _Yes,_ ” the seer answered.

“That sounds like heaven,” Eric said, clasping his hands together. “Can I buy them off you?”

The rest of the group grimaced at Eric, even Bobby and Uni who had no idea what was going on.

“ _If only!”_ the seer said. “ _They are…magically enchanted…to remain…on my person…my magic…alone cannot remove them. They…have kept me from…sleeping all…these long days…while I waited…for your arrival…and…I have been…forced to…use my powers…to sustain myself…but that has…made me unable…to offer you the…help you require…”_ He drifted off again, forehead bumping into the crystal ball when another loud flurry of slurping noises sounded, shaking the seer awake. He wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth.

“ _My powers…have been so diverted…”_ he continued, “ _I have…been unable even to…have my golems patrol…”_

“So those big guys belong to _you_ ,” Diana said.

“ _Yes_ ,” the seer nodded weakly.

“You know those knuckleheads just about turned us into roadkill?” Eric demanded.

“ _I…apologize…for their behavior…but…that’s…”_ The seer seemed lower and lower on energy.

“Excuse me, didn’t you say you couldn’t remove them yourself?” Presto stepped in.

“ _Y…es…these…require…the magic…of another…powerful wizard…”_ The seer seemed to see Presto for the first time, eyes momentarily brightening. “ _You…lad, you…are my only…hope.”_

“We’re doomed,” Eric said. Sheila shushed him, removing her hands from Bobby’s ears. “Hey,” Eric continued, “what’s so bad about getting endless head anyway?”

“Huh?” Bobby asked. “Mister, don’t you already have a head? Why would you want more?”

“Just…uh, _ignore_ that, Bobby,” Sheila said. “Okay then, Presto. Give it your best shot.”

“Are…are you sure?” Presto asked sheepishly. “I may have gotten us here but it looks like those rock things were supposed to bring us here anyway…”

“He’s our only lead, Presto,” Hank said. “And he could really use the help.”

“Yeah, Presto,” Diana said. “We believe in you!”

Uni snorted.

Presto bit his lip before stepping up flush with the table. He took his hat in one hand and spun his other around it, the same telltale sparks floating through the air. The seer looked almost comatose.

Presto intoned, “ _Baggy khakis, overalls, free this seer’s over-sucked balls!_ ”

A loud bang shook the crystals on the long table and the crystal ball bounced from its cage and rolled toward Presto across the tablecloth. He clumsily replaced it.

“Did…did anything happen?” Sheila asked.

They all peered over the table to find that something _had_ happened. The seer’s once loud, fiendish slacks had been replaced with a handful of leather straps, what appeared to be a form of ass-less chaps also missing its crotch. The seer’s reddened, slick cock and loose balls hung free, if over-stimulated, over the edge of his seat. Sheila clamped her hand over Bobby’s eyes.

“Did it…did I do it?” Presto asked.

Nobody breathed. Then, after a second, the seer snored, a prolonged, grateful snore.

Hank sighed. “You did it, Presto!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eric said, “probably better we get him to help us quickly before he realizes his only source of head just got transmogrified.”

“He already _has_ a head,” Bobby said, confused, his eyes still covered.

A short time later, the seer had recovered sufficiently to awake with a start. He peered blearily at the group before standing, certain parts dangling.

“My _goodness_ ,” he said, “do I feel ever better! I recall my sustaining magic was in effect so I’ve gotten the equivalent of what feels…twenty to thirty hours of sleep. My deepest thanks to you,” he shook Presto’s hand with such force his cock bobbed.

“Uh, sir, we do need to inform you that your pants…” Hank said, averting his eyes.

“What?” The seer looked down. “Oh! My chaps! I’m so glad. When I first put those seersuckers on, my chaps disappeared. I was horrified.”

“You mean to say,” Sheila started, having given up on shielding Bobby’s eyes, “those are your _usual_ pants?”

“Oh yes,” the seer said, limbering up by hopping around, attempting a jumping-jack, “what else would an Oasis Seer wear?”

“Some oasis,” Eric griped. “Only sand and dirt and rocks around here. My suit is filthy.”

“Ah, I suppose that makes sense. Please, follow me,” the seer motioned the group toward the exit. The prospect of following behind the man’s naked ass had not occurred to the group and so Hank was the unfortunate follower saddled with the task. He kept his vision to the side of the cave until they reached the entrance again.

“See for yourself,” the seer said, stepping aside.

The party was awestruck. For a mile in every direction, extending from the cave opening in its center, an oasis stretched. Long pools of crystal clean water, a sweep of lush grass, the once bone dry trees resuscitated and already dropping fat colorful fruit.

“I’m afraid my powers were more diverted than I thought,” the seer said. “Anyhow, allow me to guide you on your way. This stream here,” he gestured, “is full of a special kind of quartz that picks up psychic energy.”

The group noticed small blossoms of minerals dotting the stream gully.

“Follow this and it will lead you toward a town that deals exclusively with psychic anomalies. My guess is that you will find more information there on the portal that can lead you back home.”

The group said their goodbyes to the seer, careful to keep their eyes on his still haggard but immensely thankful face. As they made their way, picking fruit as they went, Eric snarked.

“You know, I remember a crystal flunky back home, complete kook if you ask me.”

“He _did_ help us though,” Diana said.

“ _We_ helped _him_ more than _he_ helped _us,_ ” Eric complained. "Why do we even _listen_ to Dungeon Master? He seems to know less than we do!"

Hank put a hand on Presto’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate jostle. “You really saved us, Presto. Good job.”

Presto brightened. “Just happy to help. There’s something I wish I knew though…”

The others turned to him.

Presto wondered out loud, “Back in that room, I noticed, just as we were leaving, that all those brown crystals on that big table were starting to glow. I wanted to know what they did but the seer didn’t want to answer.”

“Some mysteries are better left unsolved,” Diana said, sagely.

Back at the seer’s oasis, the seer stood happily looking into a growing pool of muddy brown bubbling liquid filling his room in the cave. Trickles of liquid were flowing from the muddy brown crystals, gushing forth until the waterline reached the tip of the table. The seer waded into fluid, still in his assless, crotchless chaps.

“Ahh,” he said, “finally. I can restore all my powers in this real oasis.” He swallowed a little of the fizzy water as it splashed into his mouth. “Why the human world banished Crystal Pepsi here is beyond me.”


	2. In Which Presto and Eric Improvise an Unorthodox Meal

“Come on, come on, Mister Magic, can’t you make yourself useful and whip us up some grub? Jeez, listen to me. I’m so hungry I’m asking _you_ for help,” Eric slapped a hand to his forehead.

Presto frowned. “I’m more than capable of making something edible…I think.”

The pair had gotten separated from the rest of the party as a result of a giant windstorm. Two dragon sized gusts socked the two in their stomachs before they’d had a chance to take cover and they were carried off, Eric screaming the entire time. Presto, who had air sickness, was in less of a mood at the time to open his mouth. When they’d landed, they’d found themselves in a forest clearing, safe but lost. Their decision to stay put until the others found them seemed sound, but after hours had passed and with no food in sight, nothing to forage or pick from overhead branches, they were starting to get worried.

“Give me anything, Presto, _anything_. I’ll take a hamburger, a pizza, a side of fries, just make it _something_ filling. I gotta keep my figure here,” Eric shlumped down on a convenient flat stone, spreading his legs.

Presto tore his eyes away from Eric’s crotch. How long had it been since they’d...? A few days at least and they’d had no time with the chaos of being separated. Presto was actually getting quite hungry, famished even, though not in the same way Eric was complaining about.

“All right, let’s…let’s see…remember what Dungeon Master told me…I have to focus on my heart’s desire and make it happen, focus, _focus_ …” Presto readied his hat, spread his fingers out over it. He visualized a beautiful table laid out in sumptuous fare, chicken roasted in honey, pork chops braised and buttered, beef ribs dripping with oozing, succulent fat, a small side of vegetables, no, forget the vegetables, a platter of corndogs bigger than Eric’s shield, a tureen of hotdogs, a cloche revealing hamburgers, discs of pizza littering the length of the table, length, the full delicious length, no way bigger than Eric’s…

“ _Thighs and shoulders, juicy meat, give us both something to eat!_ ” Presto chanted.

With a snap and a crack, Presto blinked as Eric shouted in surprise. His cavalier’s pants groaned then gave way, splitting open as his cock and balls rapidly grew in size, doubling, tripling, quintupling, until they reached the size of soccer balls and an erect shaft that nearly reached taller than Eric.

“W-What—“ Eric sputtered, “ _What did you do?!”_

“I’m sorry!” Presto twisted his hat. “I think…I think I must have…not been focusing on the right…thing…”

“You _think_? My johnson here is bigger than Bobby’s _club_! I could batter an ogre with this thing!” Eric, while shocked, didn’t seem in any pain.

“Your balls too, Eric, they’re…”

“They’re about to drag me off this rock, you bozo! If I weren’t sitting down before you cast that crazy spell, I’d probably be sitting on my own nuts! Speaking of which… _oh_ … _P-Prest…ahhh_ …” Eric quivered, whatever verbal jab he’d had lined up replaced with quavering moans, moans growing louder.

“W-what is it? What’s happening? Are you hurting somewhere?” Presto ran forward only to put himself in the direct line of fire as Eric came, an enormous jet of cum spurting from his augmented dick, blasting from his tip and spraying directly into Presto’s face, knocking him onto his back.

“I…oh man…I’m…I’m…I _can’t stop cumming_ ,” Eric panted, another rope of semen speeding out, this time arcing right over Presto. “ _This is incredible…but I am…ahhh…still an…ah….angry, don’t you forg…forget it!”_

Presto watched as Eric’s thick seed came flooding from his cock, rivers of it dribbling down his dick and off his balls, accumulating in a musky puddle beneath him. Presto licked his lips out of habit and found the cum on his face tasted sweeter, more nutritious, and instantly filling. He leapt up.

“Sorry, Eric, I think…I think you might be…uh, the feast I was thinking about…”

“No _kidding_ , I’m…ahhh, a _feast_ for _everybody_ …what do you…” Eric was already dizzy from chained orgasms wracking his body.

“Your cum…it’s…delicious,” Presto said, scooping a handful as it blurted out of Eric’s cock. He drank from his hands then returned for another helping, slipping his cupped palms under the thick, off-white waterfall.

“To _you_ maybe,” Eric said indignantly. “I don’t plan on eating my own jizz anytime soon…that’s just…”

Presto was already holding some up to Eric’s lips after having drank another several mouthfuls himself. Eric, not collected enough to offer a zinger, acquiesced, letting Presto tip it onto his tongue. His eyes brightened.

“I…I feel better already…how… _PRESTO_ , _WHAT DID YOU DO, STOP THIS STUPID SPELL RIGHT NOW,”_ Eric shouted, the cum reenergizing his awareness of the situation.

“I-I-I…I think it’s supposed to last…uh, for an…an hour, Eric,” Presto stammered.

“ _AN HOUR?!_ ” Eric stared in horror. “That’s it bud, you asked for it!” He steered his semen spurting seed machine toward Presto, hosing him in a blast of cum, showering him in man milk until Presto was coated in sticky jizz. The wizard in training didn’t seem to mind that much, opening his mouth and getting his fill of Eric’s generous genetic donation, an action that annoyed Eric even more.

“All right, you wanna play games?!” Eric squeezed his nuts between his calves, his eyes instantly rolling back as he flopped backwards, a rocket of heady cum careening out and hitting Presto in the chest, knocking him backwards as he slid on the cum-slick ground underneath him. He stopped sliding a good ten feet away. Both lay prone, not bothering to take a turn or to use their movement to right themselves.

An hour passed as the two lay dazed from the impact of Presto’s spell. Eventually the mishap-prone mage lifted his head. Eric seemed exhausted, limbs splayed out against the rock he’d been sitting on, long breaths signaling sleep. Presto blinked and stumbled up to his feet.

Eric’s cock and balls had returned to their usual size, large enough to satisfy Presto’s wants and needs but not quite as large as might back up his habitual brags. He felt the slightest twinge of remorse, wondering whether he’d be able to magically experiment his fill before eventually heading back home where size enhancements were all con and nostrum. His disappointment was replaced with relief however as he noticed the vast quantities of cum had disappeared, no longer clinging to his hair, coating his glasses, or sticking to his robes. The same for Eric and the surrounding clearing. The only clue to this magical goof was in Eric’s still busted pants.

Eric gave a loud snort and groaned, peering up at Presto. “Huh? Wha…” He jumped clumsily to his feet, grabbing Presto by the shoulders, then gripping his robes with one hand, the other poised with a punch. “I _ought to clobber you!”_

“I’m sorry!” Presto said again, shielding his face with outstretched palms. “It was an…accident…kind of.”

“What’d’ya mean _kind of_?” Eric still held a not-very-serious fist in the air.

“I…tried to think of hamburgers and hotdogs and pizza…but I kind of got…distracted by…thinking about how much I’d rather taste you,” Presto flatly admitted, his eyes trained on the stone Eric had been lying on.

“Oh _really_ ,” Eric said, considering. A gentle blush crept up his ears. “Well, uh…” He released his magical partner’s clothes, “accidents happen I guess…and I mean, I can’t _blame_ you for getting distracted by me, I mean, _look at me_ , of _course_ you did. I'm a treat. Full course even. Next time I’ll be sure to be a half mile from you when you plan to enchant my junk.”

“You were…delicious, if that’s any consolation,” Presto murmured.

Eric laughed. “I _bet_ I was…come to think of it, I do feel better. Not the worst problem to have either. Hey, where’d all the rest of my spunk end up?”

Presto ruminated. “I believe whatever isn’t consumed at the spell’s end vanishes again.”

“Nifty,” Eric said. “Well, uh…” he turned. “Better be on our way, gotta get home to some _real_ food.”

“Eric…” Presto said quietly.

“Eh?”

“You might want to let me do something about your uh…pants first.”

Eric looked down and gave a screech. He was instantly holding Presto’s robes again. “ _I ought to clobber you!_ ”

Presto was saved by a loud rustle in the bushes behind him and a piercing whine as Uni crashed into the clearing, barreling toward the two adventurers. The unicorn head-butted into Presto’s back, sending both boys toppling over, Presto on top of Eric, both near the flat stone, while Uni whinnied happily, standing atop Presto's shoulder blades. More noises sounded from the nearby foliage.

“Sounds like Uni found them! Good girl, Uni!” Bobby’s voice said.

“Where were you guys? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Diana said, appearing.

“Way to get yourself lost, Eric,” Sheila said.

“Hey, is it my fault some freak storm blew us to kingdom come? I about starved out here. There’s nothing to eat!” Eric tried to shimmy his way out from under the pair on top of him, not exactly succeeding.

“There’s plenty to eat,” Hank said. “Nothing up to your delicatessen tastes, I’m sure.”

“If you’re talking berries, you can _keep_ them.” Eric tried again to free himself, prying his body most of the way out.

Presto frazzled as he heard the others draw closer. He whipped off his hat, mumbled some words, and pointed before Eric could stop him. Immediately the gaping hole in Eric’s pants filled itself back in, just as the pants had been before, with one notable exception.

“Eric,” Bobby asked, lifting Uni off of Presto’s back, “what’s wrong with your pants?”

Eric stared in horror at the giant codpiece that had replaced the center seam of his tights. He glared at Presto who returned only a goofy grin.

“Had a _mishap_ while we were trudging through this forest,” Eric said. “A monster just ripped right through my pants, just like that!”

“Wowee!” Bobby said. “What’d it look like? Was it big?”

“ _Big_?” Eric said, his voice filling out with bravado. “The _biggest!_ The biggest you ever seen.”

“Did it have claws? Fangs? Was it furry or scaly or covered in fire?” Bobby grasped Uni tighter with each question. The magical beast in question seemed unhappy about this.

“Nah, it was completely naked except for a hood it took off after a while. A giant club too that sprayed this gunk that immobilized you. I’m lucky to be alive!” Eric pounded his chest.

“Is that _true_ , Presto?” Sheila asked suspiciously.

“Every word,” Presto said, observing the codpiece which was delicately darned with whorls of wave shaped embroidery.

“So what’s up with your funny pants then?” Bobby said.

“Ask Presto. _He’s_ the one who fixed them,” Eric said.

Presto flushed. “I-I was thinking about that monster’s big _club_ and…got a little distracted…”

Hank nodded knowingly. “We understand, Presto. It’s easy to make mistakes when worried about monsters…big or _small_.”

“Hey!” Eric said, jumping up, “that was monster was _huge_ , you hear me! It could have taken you all out, just like that!”

“Well where is this terrifying beast then, Eric?” Diana said.

“Uh…” Eric said.

“I shrank it down to size,” Presto said. “We managed to avoid any more encounters with it after that. But, uh…man Hank, you said there was food huh? Let’s go forage because I’m _starving!_ ” With that, Presto marched into the forest, tugging his hat down over his eyes, his face red.

“I’m sure sorry to have missed seeing that monster,” Bobby said, barely noticing as Uni wriggled out of his arms. “I wonder if it was bigger than that giant scorpion we saw once?”

“If it’s anything like the _rest_ of Eric’s stories, I’d say unlikely.” Sheila said.

“ _Hey_ ,” Eric blustered, “I say _big_ , I mean _big_ , and that’s that. I’m gonna go help Presto find some food while you people are just standing here lazing around.” And with that he also marched into the brush.

“Hope they don’t get lost again,” Diana said.

“If anything, they’ll run into Eric’s monster again,” Hank smiled.

Uni made a noise that sounded peculiarly like “yuck.”


	3. In Which Presto and Eric Bargain for a Room

“Finally we made it,” Diana said, putting her arms in the air. “I didn’t think we’d ever get out of that forest.”

The past few weeks had seen the adventurers subsisting in an overgrowth of vines, trees, and monsters, with few of those three offering any assistance. Purple mushrooms several stories high interposed with luminescent fickle fairies. The impenetrable canopy of brush above writhed with eerie eyes, long snakes with howling monkey faces, four legged falcons, the occasional harpy or hippogriff. And those were just the neutral parties. Everyone had been relieved when the trees had thinned and they'd spotted a well-worn road, more relieved even than when they'd escaped mostly unscathed from an ornery tentacle beast. The packed dirt highway had brought them here, what looked like a trading hub mid-trading season. A sign just outside town read Welcome to Elledore.

"Me too!" Bobby cheered, swinging his club for emphasis. "I thought I'd have to live in a mushroom for the rest of my life!"

"I thought we'd have to leave Eric behind. That tentacle monster was _pretty_ fond of him," Sheila said.

"Don't _remind_ me," the cavalier grumbled, rubbing his butt. "Just glad we're _out_ of that leafy nightmare. Give me a city, no trees, all buildings, _air conditioning._ "

“Venger wasn’t keen on our leaving it, that’s for sure,” Hank said.

“Forget him, it’s so good to be in civilization again,” Sheila sighed happily. “No more chewing on tree bark.”

“Hey!” Presto said, for it had been his idea, “bark is high in fiber!”

“Oh shove it up your _ash_ , magic-boy,” Eric snarled.

“Okay, okay,” Hank said, catching Presto’s eye, “calm down Eric, we’re all pining for a decent meal as much as you are.”

“Wish there was some place for us to spruce up first,” Sheila said, glancing at Hank.

“Or polish our helmets. We’d be super poplar around here. The townsfolk might even treat us to a tour of the local cuisine.” Diana grinned pointedly at Eric.

Bobby opened his mouth. The others stood around exchanging looks while Eric glowered. “Huh? What’d’ya mean helmets? I’m the only one who’s got a helmet. Unless you count that cloth thing Presto has on his head.” Presto, too distracted by thoughts of Eric’s wood, declined to respond. Uni surreptitiously stuck her tongue out at the whole proceeding.

Sheila waved a hand. “It’s been so long since we’ve been in a town this size. I’m sure they have _everything_. Clean beds, supplies, even—“

“If they don’t have hamburgers, they don’t have _anything_ ,” Eric interrupted. He jostled his shield from one arm to the other. “How hard is it to make a decent burger? Am I asking too much? _No_. They just stare at you and offer you some pickled pigbat or some other horrible thing.”

“You didn’t even _try_ the pickled pigbat, Eric,” Bobby said. “It was _delicious._ Crunchy like pork rinds and sour like pickle spears, _yum_!”

Presto’s stomach made a definitive gurgle. “Can we not…talk about uh… _local food_ right now, I’m…” He put a hand to his belly. “…starving.”

“Tell you what,” Hank said, “why don’t you and Eric find us some place to stay the night and the rest of us go find something to eat?”

“You want _me_ to go with _him?_ ” Eric asked in horror. “How am I supposed to sweet talk a matron into giving us a room if he’s there to hurt my credibility?”

“We’ll be lucky if we even get a closet,” Sheila quipped.

The party parted ways, the larger contingent led by Bobby who followed his nose toward a smoky section of a street market. The entire town seemed to be bustling, even more than a town this size usually would. Vendors lined the alleys and the store fronts and a constant river of patrons streamed this way and that. Banners and ropes of colored paper were suspended between buildings. The air was thick with jollification and otherwise good fun. Eric grimaced.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s find an inn.”

Presto pointed at a well-dressed building set a few feet off the main road right beside them. “How about there?”

“I _knew_ that was there,” Eric snapped, trotting toward the door. “I was waiting on you.”

They entered what turned out to be a large tavern full of noise and jeering and ale. The wide hot room was stuffed with tables and every table stuffed with guests of all shapes, sizes, races, and degrees of giddy intoxication. The more inebriated were already mid-song when the pair stepped inside and more were joining the polytonal chorus as they stood in foyer.

“I guess this is the place?” Presto asked, unsure whether the establishment offered the accommodations they were looking for.

Eric scanned the bar, giving a chuckle when he found what he was after. “Leave this to me,” he spoke grandly, flouncing up to the bar where a figure had their back turned. A mane of shiny curling black hair flowed down the barkeep’s back. Glints of gold peeked out at points when a soft green hand reached for another glass to polish.

Eric cleared his throat suggestively. “Pardon me my lovely barkeep, I’m here to inquire about your fine rooms.”

The glass-polisher spun around, a mug still tucked over one fist. The heavily (and luxuriously) bearded orc man staring down at Eric was only slightly less puzzled than the sheer blanching horror creeping across Eric’s face. Neither said a word. The barkeep only swiveled his fingers gingerly around a cloth in the mug.

Presto stepped forward. “We’re here for a room if you have one.”

“ **Well why didn’t you say so** ,” the bar-master boomed. He slapped a giant hand on Presto’s shoulder. “ **You look a smart lad. What’re you in town fer?** ”

“Just got in from the forest,” Presto said readily. He looked over at Eric who was slowly reassembling pieces of his pride. Presto opted not to mention any monster encounters. “We were hoping to restock, rest up, then be on our way.”

“ **Adventurers then!** ”

“You might say that,” Presto nodded.

“ **Well then, got a special rate for quest folk, 40 gold a night, one room**.”

Eric continued to gape, though now for the new reason. Presto coughed, the emptiness of his money pouch heavier than Eric’s dismay. “That’s…a little out of our price range, I’m afraid.”

The orc man threaded his fingers through his beard meaningfully. He also tried threading the mug still on his other hand through his beard but was unsuccessful. “ **’Fraid you’re outta luck then. You showed up during Elledore’s busiest festival, our celebration of the god of tidiness, and I’ve got the last free room in town**.”

“Is there…” Presto scrambled, “is there anything we could do for you in exchange for the room? Anything we could _clean_ or _tidy_?” The magician twisted his hat between his hands.

“ **Hmm…now that you mention it, I been meaning to clean my attic out. Can’t celebrate your god of tidiness with a dusty attic, can you?** ”

“So you’d be willing to give us the room if we clean your attic?” Presto said hopefully.

The bartender, reaching a decision quickly, freed his hand from his beard. “ **You know what, I’ve taken to you boys, so that’s just what I’ll do. Have it clean by suppertime and I’ll give you a nice room.** ” He set the sparkling mug behind the counter and ambled in the direction of a door set in the far wall. “ **You coming, fancy man?** ” he called.

“ _Eep,”_ said Eric.

The barman gave a cannon-shot of laughter. “ **What’s the matter with him?** ”

“I think he’s intimidated by your alluring facial hair,” Presto suggested.

The barkeep nodded, drawing a fat iron key from his apron. “ _ **Should**_ **be. Cost me a shiny penny for the balm. Up here then** ,” he said. The towering orc led them through the door, yelling at nearby patrons as he went, getting back equally jovial harassment. Presto and Eric followed the man up a dark flight of stairs, then another curving around, then another, and yet another.

“This…this building didn’t _look_ this big on the outside,” Presto panted.

“ **You’re a mage, aren’t you?** ” The orc man asked, his jewelry jingling with each step.

“Y-yeah,” Presto said.

“ **How do** _ **you**_ **think we fit all these rooms in a nice compact space? You know what property’s going for right now? Worth a mint if you wanted to build out** _ **or**_ **up. Compact building is very** _ **in**_ **right now.** ” He brushed a cobweb from the high underside of their next set of stairs with a sweep of his fingers.

“So you’d say your inn is in?” Presto asked.

“ _ **In**_ **deed** ,” the barman chortled.

The final flight of dustier, less trafficked steps saw the group arrive at a large wooden door. The barman used the same iron key as before and unlocked this door with a heavy _clunk_ , the tumblers not so well used. He grunted, shoving the door open, gesturing.

“ **There she is** ,” he said.

It was no wonder he’d needed such force for the door itself was not so much stuck as blocked. Eric and Presto gazed in shock. What Presto had assumed was going to be a small compact space for the similarly small compact building turned out to be just as expansive and absurd on the inside. A cavernous space, the attic swarmed with clutter: boxes, bed frames, furniture, pots and pans, chamber pots and bedpans, rusty swords and armor, decadent aristocratic outfits, peasant garments, boudoirs and armoires, endless miscellaneous knick-knacks and hobnobs stacked from floorboards to ceiling, itself two or three dozen feet high, the rafters choked with spider-webs, everything else crushed under an oppressive layer of dust. It was difficult to judge how large the room was given the caked smudges on the windows, leaving everything suffused in dimness.

“T-this place is the size of a _football field_ ,” Eric sputtered.

“ **Not sure what a football field is, but I could use some more space. Hard to find anything in here. Well then, I leave it to you. There’s a few hours before sundown.** ” He left laughing, a sound that knew full well the task that lay ahead for both party members.

“ _Presto what did you get us into?!_ ” Eric shook the mage by the shoulders.

“I _tried_ to get _you_ out of a mess,” Presto said defensively. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “And now I have to figure out how we’re gonna—“

“Let’s just escape,” Eric said, advancing to the nearest window and testing the bolts. “Can’t we just climb down? It couldn’t be _that_ far to jump, right?”

Presto looked unimpressed. “If the architectural magic holds true, it only ought to be the inside that’s enchanted, so it’d be ten or twenty feet. But Eric, you _heard_ the guy. He said he had the only free room left in town.”

“What if he was _lying_ , Presto?!” Eric covered his face. “We’re doomed.”

The spunky magician took off his hat. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already got an idea for how we solve this…”

“Making a rope out of those bed-sheets in the corner then skip town?” Eric asked.

“No, we use a little magic.”

Eric, not removing his hands from his face, said, “We’re double-doomed.”

Presto ignored his friend, thinking over the exact incantation to use. The attic was formidable and he’d need a horde of him and Eric if they even wanted to make a dent by dinnertime. He shut his eyes and focused, summoning an image of the room perfectly clean, spotless, all the items within neatly organized and labeled, stacks of boxes filed away. He swirled his hand over the brim and said,

“ _Time to clean this filthy room!  
Work it out with an army of brooms!”_

As soon as he’d said it, brooms began rapidly appearing, two, ten, twenty, finally slowing materializing somewhere around forty seven. All stood at attention, awaiting further orders. Presto marched the line of brooms like a drill sergeant, arms behind his back. Eric smacked his forehead.

“All right brooms,” Presto barked, “I want you to clean _every_ filthy thing in this room until Eric and I are satisfied, got it? Now hop to it!”

The brooms set to work, most hopping the first steps like straw-mustached frogs before flying in all directions at once, the cloud of cleaning implements dispersing. A contingent tackled cobwebs, another troupe skirting around towers of trunks and chests to attack the floorboards, still others scaling those towers and dusting, dusting, dusting. Presto brightened seeing that any dust the brooms swept instantly vanished, leaving a spot of clean shining in the patina of grime.

“It’s working!” Presto shouted.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll believe it when we’re sleeping in that room,” Eric grumbled, suppressing pleasant surprise that Presto's magic hadn't already rendered them both naked.

The battalion of brooms worked steadily and after a quarter of an hour, a chunk of the space already gleamed fresh and new. Rafters were clear of their decorative webs as well as a few larger than average spiders, a clutch of bats, and several hornets’ nests, all driven out or disappeared with a decisive sweep. The floor was becoming so clean, Eric could see himself in it.

“I didn’t know the brooms had _wax,_ ” Eric said, fixing his hair by his reflection.

“Neither did I,” Presto said, “but I guess they have window cleaner too because—“ He ducked as a broom swept over his head suddenly, flying toward the windows on the far side of the room, its bristles contacting the panes and scrubbing in wide circles. Once done there, it set its sights on the skylights and swept away, the room growing brighter and more inviting all the time. It also revealed the dust filtering through the air.

“Do these brooms have air purifiers?” Eric asked. Presto would have responded but sneezed instead. As if on command, a broom detached from its fellows and cartwheeled through the air, careening around and dispatching the free-floating dust. Soon that too was gone.

In short order, every surface and object in the room was clean of dirt and who knew how many decades of dust.

“Either this festival only happens every thirty years…” Presto started.

“Or that barkeep isn’t very religious,” Eric finished.

Finished with dusting, the brooms began lifting and sorting everything, filing first by type, whether armor or weapons or junk, then alphabetically, unearthing wall hooks and cabinets and bureaus for organizing. So much debris flew into the air, it felt as though Presto and Eric were watching the results of a shipwreck from below, jetsam spiraling into the tide, items loose and floating away. Unlike the chaos of a sinking ship, each item was ferried by a broom and carefully slotted away, easily finding space. And again, in only about an hour, the behemoth of an attic was cleaned, tidied, and clear, displaying how very big the actual room was.

“You could fit an elephant in here. A whole family,” Presto said with awe.

“Forget elephants, you could fit a Coney Island _coaster_ in here. This place is huge.” He shrugged. “I guess we did a good job. I don’t see the brooms moving anymore.” The brooms were leaned against the far wall, inert.

“We?” Presto asked with a smile.

“Of course,” Eric said with dignity. “I broke the ice.”

“ _You almost broke your nose face-planting so hard,_ ” Presto thought. Nevertheless he said, “I’m just glad it’s done. Who’d have thought there’d be so much dirty stuff in here?”

“Hoarding is a dangerous habit,” Eric said authoritatively, “almost as dangerous as watching infomercials. Say…” he looked at the sunshine through the newly cleaned windows, “we’ve got a little time…and plenty of space…” he raised his eyebrows. “And you _know_ we won’t get any privacy in that room with the others.”

Presto blushed. “There’s a…a lock on the door I think.”

Eric shut the door, turning the deadbolt. His mind filled with all the many positions he wanted to bend Presto into, how much face he could save by giving his boyfriend the ruthless fucking he’d wanted for weeks. Presto’s mind filled with sensations, of Eric’s heavy cum resting on his body, filling his hole, plenty leftover to swallow, the taste of Eric’s cock almost sustenance enough to tide him over until the others got back. Neither had gotten around to mentioning their relationship to the rest of the group, though Presto got the feeling everyone but Bobby already knew. Eric was in denial.

He rubbed his hands together. “So, what’s it gonna be, magic-boy? You did a _little_ more than me in getting this junkyard spiffy, so I’ll let you have first pick. Doggy-style, free-wheeling damsel, the jerky tangerine, the Lotus?”

“I was just gonna suck your cock,” Presto said, putting his hands in front of his crotch, a boner already tenting his robes.

“Good enough for me,” Eric said, unbuckling his pants.

Mid-buckle, Eric heard a funny noise. Presto, already on his knees, also heard the funny noise. Both looked up to find the brooms hovering above them.

“Uh…” Eric said.

Without warning the cluster of brooms descended in a wave. Eric yelped and Presto dove for cover, but to no avail as the brooms hauled the pair into the air. With a spit of their bristles, both boys’ clothes were sheared off, leaving them naked except for Presto’s hat which nonetheless fell to the ground out of reach.

“ _WHAT DID YOU DO, MAGIC-BOY?!”_ Eric howled.

“T-they…” Presto peeked from between his fingers. “They must have realized we were the last filthy things in this room!”

“ _I’m not filthy!_ ” Eric shouted. “I just wanna _fuck_ your _ass!_ ” The brooms suspending Eric immediately grew more furious.

“Don’t encourage them!” Presto said, but he knew there was nothing he could do. One broom was aiming its bristles at Eric’s suitably hard cock and another had lined its handle up with Presto’s ass. In the blink of an eye, both boys were getting pleased within an inch of their lives.

Brooms worked over Eric’s body, stray bristles tickling over his entire frame, sweeping across his sides, chest, jaw, ears, calves, feet, and cock. The bristles, previously straw, were now transmuted into silk and the softest hair, gentle enough not to scratch, but firm enough to make their point. Special attention was paid to his dick, the bristles growing even softer, tighter, one broom designated to spin around his cock, squeezing down over the full length of his shaft, each strand of twining silk seemingly independent. Eric arched his back as a bristle column consolidated around his cock, clinging to his dick, matching its shape and pulsating. The cavalier, crotch thrust upwards, while his arms and legs hung down defenseless, proved a fun sight aerially.

Presto fared no better, his body also eagerly picked over by the crazed cleaning tools. The handle which had plunged into his hole had taken on a different shape, a thicker, smoother, well lacquered form, bulbous at the end, almost the exact proportions of Eric’s cock, if perhaps slightly bigger. The magic-user hadn’t expected the wood to be so warm or so slick, a suggestion that some slimy sap was being secreted, making the sliding motions that much easier.

Eric’s mouth was open but the only noise that escaped it was a garbled string of groans, intelligible only perhaps to Presto who could see the action. The broom in which Eric’s erection was buried was spiraling around, its rotations rubbing every pleasure point, every sensitive spot up and down Eric’s dick. Even his balls were getting attention, a smaller broom now shrunk to the size of a feather-duster delicately shuffling against his sack.

Presto would have enjoyed the show more had he the attention-span, but just as quickly as the ever more phallic handle slid inside him, it had begun calibrating to locate the optimum angle. With a few experiments, it pinpointed his prostate and began thrusting away, not wasting a single movement. Weak to anything involving ass-play, Presto became a fluent speaker in Eric’s loud and expressive language.

Both boys offered little resistance to the overwhelming attentions being paid them. Their long stint in the forest had been unforgiving in terms of free time, even less so for a bush secluded enough for sex. As such, the length of time since they’d gotten off, let alone together, made sure they wouldn’t withstand the barrage of bristles for very long. In what seemed a harrowing minute and a half, drunk with pleasure and nerves singed and singing with surrender, Eric’s cock-pleasing hollow whipping off and Presto’s hole stretching handle slipping out, both came, long energetic spurts of semen spiraling through the air before a pair of jobless brooms sped around catching all of it, every cumshot gone before it even hit the ground.

As both rode out their orgasms, they barely noticed they were sinking, a brilliant light above them all-consuming as brooms abandoned their perches, their stations, fleeing from Presto and Eric and blending into the core of light building at the center of the room. What might have been a moment or several moments later, Presto sat up, afterglow freshly finished, suddenly aware he was no longer floating.

He peered around and let his head slump down relieved when he noticed his and Eric’s clothes, previously shreds and ribbons, had been neatly repaired and rested in two neat piles near the locked attic door. He stumbled up, a dull pain calling from his ass, and dressed. Eric lounged lazily on the floor beneath him, one leg propped up, dick just touching the polished floorboards.

“Eric,” Presto nudged him with his foot, “here.” He tossed the cavalier gear at its owner and Eric startled.

“Well for _once_ I get my clothes back _better_ than they were before after one of your magic mishaps.” Eric said, holding up his tunic. He slid his garb on. “Why’d they stop all of a sudden?”

Presto put a finger to his chin. “I _think_ …the words I used with their instructions had something to with the brooms not stopping until we were satisfied…”

“ _Satisfied?_ Hell, I could go for another two roun—“ Eric began before Presto smacked both hands across his friend’s mouth. Both paused, waiting for a flurry from the army of brooms, but nothing happened.

“Oh!” Presto said. A single broom remained. It leaned against a window, docile and stationary. “I guess…they all condensed into that broom? Or is that silly?”

“Mmmhmpphhhmmphhffhfmprghgh,” Eric said intelligently.

Presto dropped his hands. He was going to remark on what a shame it was he hadn’t gotten to swallow Eric’s load when someone began banging loudly on the door behind them.

“ **What was all that ruckus I heard?** ”

Presto ran to unbolt the door and opened it to find the barman eyeing him suspiciously.

“Oh uh…cleaning?” the magician said sheepishly.

“ **I’ll say,** ” the barman said, pushing into the room. “ **Look at this place! Cleaner than old Harlock’s inn down the street and that man made a pact with a dust devil.** **I knew you two’d get it done! Although…** ” the barman eyed the broom at the far end of the room, “ **given that thing probably did all the work, I ought to give you two a** _ **broom closet**_ **instead!** ” He guffawed, slapping both boys on the back.

Eric opened his mouth before getting slapped on the back again and only making a “ _Uogh_ ” noise instead.

“ **A deal’s a deal** ,” the barkeep said and led them downstairs one flight, two flights, a third flight, down two halls and around a corner. This part of the inn looked a good bit cleaner and homely. He unlocked a door and the pair entered a comfy, very respectable room outfitted with a single bed and nightstand. The barman winked. “ **Seems about perfect for you two given all the** _ **cleaning**_ **I heard going on upstairs**.”

Presto pulled his hat over his eyes and Eric opened his mouth once again only for his voice to die away in a hoarse wheeze. The barman snorted.

“ **Thanks again boys! Now I don’t have to worry about festival inspectors paying me a surprise visit.** ” One last laugh and he shut the door behind him.

Presto peered out from under his hat. “At least we got the room…”

“Didn’t even have to use any gold either,” Eric said. “Better to save that for—“

The door flew open, admitting one bouncy unicorn who catapulted into Eric and Presto. Bobby followed close behind carrying a giant turkey leg in each hand, liquid fat rolling down his forearms and dripping from his elbows. “Hey, Uni, you found ‘em!”

“We’re back guys,” Diana said, holding what looked like the largest take-out box either had ever seen.

“A lot of great food stalls around,” Hank said.

“Well while _you guys_ were enjoying yourselves, _we’ve_ been breaking our bare backs cleaning an attic for this room!” Eric said grandly.

“This is our room?” Hank asked quizzically.

“Why else would we be standing in here?” Eric spread his hands.

“You guys cleaned an attic and got _one_ room with _one_ bed?” Sheila asked.

Eric, apparently only noticing this fact as it was pointed out to him, stared furiously at the bed. The bed continued to look innocent and inviting. Presto held out his hand. “Please tell me there’s a hotdog in that box. I could use one after all we’ve been through.”

Diana held up a single hotdog and put it in Presto’s hand.

“ _A h-hotdog?!_ ” Eric exclaimed, snapping out of his reverie. He lunged forward, searching the to-go box for another dog, finding unfortunately nothing.

“They were fresh out. We got the last one,” Diana said.

Presto was already on his last bite when Eric flew, mouth first, toward it, connecting with Presto, the food somewhere between their lips. They crashed to the ground, wrestling, struggling. The others watched them for a second and at some point, Sheila clapped her hand over Bobby’s eyes.

“Okay you guys,” Hank said, “I think we’re gonna go ask the barkeep if we can rent another room.”

“Yeah,” Diana said, “nice guy. Said he had a basement that needed cleaning.”

Neither Presto nor Eric cared much or noticed as the rest of the party shut the door behind them. There was little they cared about more than getting out every ounce of sexual frustration that had been left unresolved in the attic. Nothing would have stopped them in that moment. Nothing except the tapping of a broom-handle on the window of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> For MJEsperandieu.


End file.
